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He woke up again as he felt the dried blood that now stuck to his face. The small body he was in was weaker than it had been, he found it hard to keep awake, his head hurt and his body was weak. The complete loss of feeling in his leg, was starting to get to him as he felt his small body shake and convulse, the small lungs encased in his little body were not expanding as much as his breath was shallow “help” he whimpered in pain, if he only could get enough breath he would scream, but each time he tried, his lungs retracted leaving him out of breath, a flashing face come into his view, it was a women with a warm face, he closed his eyes and opened them again, watching the apparition disappear.

He wanted her to stay, her face was so warm, he blinked again, watching as the women re-appear again, “come on sweetie” the voice coaxed him, a white light radiated from her enveloping his vision.

It was so confusing, but he reached out his hand, feeling the soft touch of another’s as he did.

“You’re ok.” The voice said soothingly, it was as everything was in a tube, where voices echoed.

…


He heard laughter and felt the warm sun caress his small body, it was child’s laughter, much like his own “Do it again” it smiled, giggling, opening his bright blue eyes, he could see a mans face, as he brought his hands down, “stoppp” a giggle escaped again, the tingling tickling feeling in his side returned.

“Hey, hey where you going’” the man smiled. He tried to scoot up and away but the man only moved closer, tickling his stomach again, another loud bout of laughter erupted from the his mouth.

“My turn! My Turn” he smiled standing up, he jumped on the man shoving his small hands under the mans, watching as he giggled and rolled to the side, letting him down softly, his leg hit the floor first, hitting in a funny spot as a tingling feeling shot through his leg.

…


“Come on sweetheart, it’s time to come home” the women’s voice was clear as crystal, her face was smiling at him again, the white light intensifying then fading with a steady pulse.

“Brian!” he heard in the distance, someone else was near, they were calling, but for who?”

“Come on little one” the women murmured smiling, “we’ll go to a place without end, without pain –“

“Brian” the lady grew faint, he watched horrified, as he felt his body convulse again, his upper body shook, and he whimpered. Trying to cry out to anyone that was near. The voice faded, then came back again.


…
“Did you hear that?” Harold asked, poking his head inside the hole.

“Hear what?” Harold this is the eleventh time you’ve stopped me here, they already sent the dogs in, all that came out was some stupid rats, that’s what the dogs were barking at.” Dirk growled as he walked nearer to where Harold was, trying to pick at the small crack in the side of the rock.

“3-14 to 2-598, we’ve got something down here.” Dirk’s radio beeped, he looked at Harold, it was eight thirty at night and the sun was setting, again. Nothing had washed up along the creek, and they had men wading through the whole afternoon.

“Go Ahead 3-14, what is it?” he asked.

“A pair of shoes sir.” 3-14 responded. “They’re identical to the ones that were described.”

Harold felt his heart drop, 3-14 had been the boys wading in the river all afternoon. He bent down, resting his hands between his knee’s heaving for a moment, watching the world spin around him.

“Harold you alright?” Dirk asked looking at the hunched-over figure.

Gagging for a few moments, Harold nodded brushing Dirk’s question off, he felt sick like he wanted to throw up, but there was nothing to throw up, because he had been outside all day yesterday and today. He gagged again, vomiting spit in the process.

“You sure?” Dirk asked looking at Harold, who profusely nodded again standing up, his head was spinning, as he coughed again, he walked towards the horse, getting on it again, whipping his face, from the sweat. The world started to spin around him just as he landed in the seat, “Harold?” Dirk watched from the side.

“I’m fine” he said finally steadying himself, he refused to believe his son was gone, not till he saw the body himself “Keep searching” he said pulling the last of his wits together, forcing the all-in horse ahead. The horse paced a few feet then stopped dead on its feet, licking it’s dry lips.

“Jesus, Harold didn’t you give the horse a drink?” Dirk asked watching the horse chew bitterly at its bit, Harold pulled the mare forward again, kicking it hard in the ribs.

“I’ll take her down now” he muttered, feeling the sweat creep across his brow, he felt ill again, “Brian” he said again, walking along with the horse, it moved slowly, stumbling over it’s own two feet.

“Harold, get off the damn horse.” Dirk said walking over, he forced up a canteen of water in front of Harold “Drink this, I’ll take the horse to the creek.” Harold slid off the side of the horse; giving in opening the bottle, “Stay here!” Dirks ordered leading the horse down the path, by it’s reigns walking in front of it.

Harold re-walked the pathway he had come, this seemed to be the only place he could think Brian would’ve gone, now with the shoes found, nothing fit “Brian” he called again.

…


Giggles came louder, and he felt small whiskers brush up against his face, the man was playing with him, “How does that feel?” the man asked watching with a smile.

“It tickles” the child confessed happily pushing the man’s cheeks together prickly hair poking into his small skin.
“It tickles huh?” the man smiled and laughed, blowing on his stomach, he giggled again.

“You need a shave” a female voice was heard but was out of view for him to see. The man stood up and walked in the direction of the voice.

“I will” he said softly. “Brian.”

…


He tried one last time to clear his throat, but as soon as he breathed in the lining of his esophagus was caked with dirt ‘Please God” he heard the voice whisper, “Brian.”

A bright light shined, inside, and he coughed, and sneezed, feeling his eyes shut, he couldn’t breath anymore, his lungs were caving in and his heart rate was slowing down.

…


Harold stepped off the horse, and walking slowly up the back porch stairs towards the door, he had passed out after trying to shove down to much water through his system, and Dirk had someone escort him back to the house.

“Anything” he heard his wife ask, she was standing by the door, Anne was beside her rubbing her arms, she was shaking intermittently.

“They found a pair of shoes” he said holding up his son’s sneakers, in his hands “They’re the one’s Brian was wearing that day.” He murmured.

Jackie took them from her husband holding them against her chest, caressing them, as she looked at them, then up at her husband, if God couldn’t take him by a staff infection he would take him this way.

“Brain” she cried again, holding on desperately to her husband’s sleeve “no no, nooo” she murmured.

…


“The investigation closed today for the search of the missing child. Brian Littrell was pounced dead, as Police ended their search along the back end of a the Huntley hunting grounds. “

“It make’s no closure for the family, it’s going to be a long few months while this family tries to move on with their lives, Brian’s aunt has this to say:”

“We are grateful for the efforts made, the Fayette County Police Department has been generous in their efforts, we just wish a better outcome could have been made.”

“How is the family coping?” the women asked.

Anne sighed into the microphone “They’re not, it’s not easy to cope with loosing your child, there is no way anyone wants to cope with it. After weeks of searching, it only makes the salt on the wounds more painful.”

“Give our sympathies to the Brian’s family” the announcer said. Anne nodded and walked out of view, “Cindy back to you.”

“That’s such a sad story, our heart reaches out to the Littrell family.”

Baker’s dad turned off the television, and continued to stir the oatmeal. It was all they had in the cupboard. Baker sat at the sink, tapping on the counter; the family hadn’t even started making arrangements for the funeral.

“Dad” Baker asked, getting off the chair, his dad was preoccupied however, as he scooped some of the meal into a bowl, he pulled a spoon from the drawer and stuck it in the hot cereal. “Dad, can I play with Basely today?” he asked, his dad looked up from the pot he replaced on the stove.

“I need you to help out around the house.” His dad said “so, no.” he said.

Baker looked at the place, even while his parent’s had paid no attention to how misshapen the place was it Anne had come over and helped around with things.

“Well then will you play dead log with me?” he asked, it was his and Brian’s favorite game.

“Not right now Baker” his dad replied, he put the bowl down looking at his son, who was about to walk out of the room “Baker,” he called after him, Baker stopped and turned around looking at his dad “come here” he said bending down. Everything had been surrounded by death the last five weeks, they had postponed the sale on the house, the buyers were getting antsy. Baker was sort of shoved to the side of all the mess, continually.

Harold opened his arms, bending down for his son to give him a hug “It’s just a rough time for us right now.” He said looking at his son.

“It’s my fault” Baker whimpered back.

Harold shook his head “No, no, Baker it’s not your fault” he said looking at him, “it’s nobodies fault, I love you so much. Your mom does too, we haven’t done to well at showing that lately” he said whipping his son’s hair from his face “I’m sorry” he said looking at his son “Can you forgive us?” he asked.

Baker nodded quickly hugging his dad, Harold hugged him back, feeling his small body shake for a little bit, they hugged for a few minutes while Baker cried, suddenly Baker broke, looking at his dad then up at the bowl of cereal, he smiled a little.

His Dad smiled back laying Baker on his back “Are you a dead log?” he asked, Baker nodded, stretching his hands high in the above his head. Harold brought his hands down tickling his son under his exposed arms, Baker laughed, feeling laughing and rolling over, on the tile

“Dad!” he squealed.

“You’re not a dead log” his dad said tickling his stomach, Baker tried to move his hands away.

“Daaad” he laughed, “I am” he laughed, “I am.” He said his hands were over his dad’s he could feel them stop. In the background he could hear his mom had woken up. He felt his dad pat his stomach and start to stand up picking up the bowl from the sink again.

“How about we go out to eat tonight” his dad said, as Baker got up from the ground, his hair was full static in the back. Baker nodded, watching his Dad walk up the stairs with the bowl of food.

She was prone on the bed when he walked in, Harold shut the door behind him, walking towards the bed, he got on, pulling his legs under him, resting his one hand over her as he leaned down to kiss her mouth. She lay dully looking up at him. Dissatisfied he sat up, looking at the bowl of cereal in his hands. Jackie sat up to scooting up close to him, resting her head against his chest. “I made some oatmeal” he said his hand slipping to the front of her stomach, he could feel the small bulge that was forming “You need to eat” he said as she rested her arm along his, she sat back for a moment.

Scooping up some from the bowl he placed it in front of her mouth, she let it touch her lips, then tasted a small portion before she shoved it back out with her tongue.

“Honey” Harold watched her, he pulled the spoon out of her mouth as she let the rest drop back in the bowl, he scooped up a spoonful for himself, tasting it. It was repulsive, he spit it out to “Sorry’ he said smiling he was glad to know she wasn’t refusing food anymore.

“Why aren’t you like this” he asked, she was starring at the wall, her neck was resting on her husbands arm, and his neck, as she sat in his lap. He didn’t answer. Instead he stared out the window.